"Just Like Me"

Hello, everyone! Time has flown by since my last post.  My days have been filled with health issues that pulled me away, but thankfully I am on the mend and hope this finds you well.
     As I was wading through emails and facebook posts today, I decided to organize and create lists of all the connections I had made so far. I found myself  in essence catergorizing people into typical groups such as 'family, high school and teachers', yet quickly feeling that the lists were not adequate and that instead we are are all each others 'teachers' and members of one Family in more ways then not. People would start out on one list, but I would feel compelled to place them on another as well, hence wondering why make separations at all? Then later in the day, I came across a facebook page called Avatar Compassion Project.
It is an invitation to consciously create more compassion in our world by slowing down and taking the time to notice that we really are in a mutual process of learning and doing the best we can as we go along in life. In an effort to help us see this the site offers packets of cards with 4 questions to help us see that "just like me" the person before us has known loneliness and sadness, and "just like me" is trying to avoid being hurt, in exchange for peace. Our initial tendency is often to judge whether or not  someone is being 'successful' at learning anything by our own standards, but just as I said in my first post, I am all about seeing common ground, and this simple exercise was a powerful reminder that compassion is definitely possible.
     If that approach feels too much of a stretch, the word Avatar reminded me of the recent movie that filled the theatres. I loved it, but was especially thrilled by frequent references to the comment "I see you."  This spoke to me because for several years now I have been blessed by a spiritual teacher Sonia Choquette who encouraged us to respond to others with an "I see you and you're so beautiful" tone. This was not necessarily verbal (though go right ahead!), but was about seeing more deeply into someone's spirit nature and beyond all the drama that creates that illusion of separation.  Seeing someone devote their creative energy and financial resources to a message about inconnection was such a hopeful experience. Thankfully, ticket sales proved that so many agreed with me.
     I would like to challenge you to look at this particular facebook page as a possible starting point. This exercise is similar within other faith traditions as well. Let's just use it as one small way to leave big ripples and live by a different rhythm.  See you back here soon.     
    

The Gift of Accepting What Is

This is not the first time I have realized this about myself, but it seems that the experiences I most long to offer others are also the same ones that I need to offer to myself.  I really believe my ability to accept others as they are without judgment comes fairly easily for me.  Of course, I have times when I say things I regret or become impatient, but generally speaking, I am much more patient with others' growth than my own. I assume some of that is the occupational hazard of my mental health training that keeps you more objective when listening to someone else, but I am clearly being reminded on a daily basis to trust that everything unfolds as it is meant to or a,k.a. "It's all good."
     For several years now, I have been surrounded by so much material on the Laws of Attraction/Creating Your own reality/and manifesting this or manifesting that, I feel as though it put me on a path where I totally fogot how to love and appreciate the "now" I already had.  Recent statements in another blog about the importance of "change" prompted me to share a different perspective. While I agree that change is a part of life and that we need to be open to it when it comes, there are times when I believe we can lose sight of the fact that we just need to let things be. We are creators of our lives but still only co-creators. Divine guidance knows better than we do what we need to have manifest into our lives.
     It began with very inspirational thoughts of having all we desired and countless opinions about how to have more and make it happen. "Believe. Affirm. Let go. Hold on. If you're not happy you can change it" (and apparently should or you're just being 'resistent'). I suppose that is the paradox of this post.  Sometimes the only thing that needs to change is the inability to love what IS; learning to just 'be' with an experience until it naturally unfolds like a flower opening in the sunlight. I don't mean the "I love this, this is so much fun" kind of love but the gentle, forgiving "I'm doing the best I can, it'll all work out" kind of love.  In short, I have in essence spent the last three years trying to create what I thought I wanted and thinking that when , what manifested was just the opposite, I had somehow failed. Money remained 'tight" not "abundant." and a clincal practice "dwindled" versus grew in numbers in spite of all my efforts to intend otherwise. Along with that came a severe depression that I do not see as an obstacle but again, as one of the best teachers for learning to accept  ourselves and be gentle.  Surprisingly, my simple, quiet but financially challenged life is becoming the catalyst toward a more practical type of service toward others after all.  The details aren't clear, but once I stopped trying to 'change' everything, it is more peaceful. The struggles were not evidence of failed affirmations but the very thing that gave the next steps in my life authentic meaining.  Change is much more than a constant state of flux and movement. We are never really stagnant--even when swimming in a dark depression camped out on the couch. To me 'stagnant' is  a word of judgement we place on an outcome when we think something is not happening.  In my experience, we are never truly "stuck" but either in a labyrinth of turning inward and reaching outward or a maze of blocked frustrations, but not stuck.  Regardless, whatever needs to happen will unfold without us having to necessarily change anything at all. Just relax and accept what is. What a gift!

The wisdom of Stellaluna

I have always loved children's books. Not necessarily novels but the smaller bedtime stories that if we were lucky, our parents read to us when we were little. I often find myself going back and reading many of them when I long for reminders of a time when life felt simpler. During the last couple of weeks, as I continued to think about the vision for this blog, the one that comes repeatedly to mind is Stellaluna by Janell Cannon.  This is a story about a little fruitbat who unexpectedly falls into a birdnest and is separated from her mother following a near miss with an owl.
     Without hesitation, Stellaluna tries to be the best little "bird" she can by eating worms, flying in daylight and at the insistence of momma bird, agreeing to STOP showing her babies how to hang upside down by their feet! In return, the little birds attempt to fly at night only to crash and eventually lead Stellaluna back to some other bats who would remind her of who she really was. The other bats found it hard to believe that Stellauna would be so excited to be-friend a nest of birds!  The story ends with two layers to the same question. "How can we be so different and feel so much alike?" and "How can we feel so different and be so much alike?"   Stellaluna and I have a lot in common.  We are both adaptable and find that accepting others' differences is one of life's greatest myteries.
    Growing up with a disability, I often felt "different" but also knew I was just like everyone else in the ways that mattered most. I walked differently and often needed to play on the playground differently, but had so much more in common with people. I dreamed  about what jobs I would have, about falling in love, having a family, as well as often being afraid of the same things: failure, loss, rejection, to name a few.  Fears and misinformation about disabilities however, often prevented others from truly knowing who I was on a deeper level than first impressions can reveal.  Many did just as Stellaluna did--gave no thought to how I looked different on the outside and just became my friends.  Others  assumed things that weren't true, were taught it was rude to ask questions, or just stared and walked in the opposite direction.  The theme of Stellaluna is probably what drives me the most. Few things seem more important to me than remembering how much we have in common with each other and to respect our differences if we truly hope to experience feeling connected to each other in any authentic way.
      I know that "the real world" tends to feel much more complicated than a children's book, but in my experience, our fears and not the facts are the complication.   How might our little corner of the world be more peaceful or just plain fun if we slowed down long enough to really listen and consciously see our differentness as an invitation to appreciate what others have to offer us in terms of new experiences or teach us in terms of a new perspective? Think of someone you are "sure" you have little in common with and just begin to wonder otherwise. Try to strike up a conversation with someone you might otherwise choose not to and see what happens. Just like Stellaluna, life might just be helping you find new friends in unexpected places.

Dancing Lessons

                                                             

      The next four days always filled me with the anticipation of a child on Christmas morning. There was the hustle and bustle of planning, seeing familiar faces which seemed akin at times to a family reunion, and the combination of drumming music and wafts of burning sage in the air. These gatherings were not the traditional hints of Christmas of course, but there were always gifts, though immaterial, and a sense that something sacred would take place. A small group of colleagues and myself had come for our yearly sandtray workshop with our teacher, Gisela. We were all therapists and these trainings were a combination of sand tray work, art and movement. The first two were familiar enough to us, but the use of movement to facilitate healing seemed quite a reach for me. I have walked with crutches since age five, so the idea of dancing always seemed to apply to someone else. Once the music started, I took my customary seat on the sidelines prepared to watch. Being in a crowd always brought a myriad of insecurities to the surface: "What if I fall? What if I look stupid and everyone laughs at me?" My mind flooded with countless memories of how I walked alongside walls in public places to be safe and avoid being accidentally tripped. These images were always mixed in with a handful of wishes that I could experience whatever activity I was watching, but the wishes rarely came true in the social arena. However, sand tray work was about using a collection of miniatures to help a person reclaim their power to create a reality that supports their growth, and I couldn't ignore the shift that was trying to occur inside me. The dilemma to stay on the sidelines was met by Gisela's unwavering belief in something bigger.
"It's important for everyone to show up in Life," she would say, as all of my proctective reflexes kicked into full gear.
I do show up, but it seems as if no one sees me, I thought
"Someone needs the gifts you have to offer..." she would call out to the whole group as people gradually opened up to the experience and spread out across the room.
I want to really believe that, but...
"Your impact on the world is never lost...not even in the Chaos,” she added.
        My impact on the world is never lost...but I have to show up first? That was easy for her to say! This was not an easy challenge for someone more accostumed to watching, keeping score during games or applauding for them.  Several minutes passed as the music would continue to play and everyone else proceeded to find a space and dance. Curiosity would get the better of me, and I tentatively inched my way out into the group. Gisela often reminded us to "use all of the space" in the room, but I was as nervous as a soldier trying to cross a minefield. I was doing well to be out there with everyone else, let alone move. Was she kidding?
     Fortunately, the material we were using was from Gabrielle Roth's 5 Rhythms. This is a movement meditation that is comprised of five stages: flow, staccato, lyrical, chaos and stillness. The exercise usually started slow and built up to a literal chaotic frenzy. I referred to the chaos stage as "the rag doll rhythm" because that is always how I felt to just let go and let the music move me instead of my responding to the music. I am always amazed that I never fell in the "chaos" of it all, but kept my balance the whole time. The awkwardness of dancing with my arms was especially difficult because of my crutches being naturally rigid...and long! One miracle was that I was attempting to dance; the other was that I never hit someone in the head as I moved them all around me...even when me eyes were usually closed to help me shut out my fear of people staring. Eventually, I would open my eyes and see that no one was staring. I was just part of the group. Gisela also encouraged me to see my crutches as an extension of my arms and not to worry about bumping into anyone because "the universe will always make room for you." Still, I was self-conscious and longed for some way to find a flow to the music that is just not easy with two metal sticks attached to your arms. The next day my intuition would tell me to "tie on scarves" and that's exactly what I did. Different colors for each crutch: reds, blues, purples, you name it! I was quick to point out to Gisela what I had decided to try.
"You're brilliant!"
     So, off I went feeling brilliant and proud of my new solution! That experience was the catalyst for other times when I participated in dance with others throughout the years. Similar feelings during traditional circle dances reminded me of the importance of feeling included. Circle dancing taught me a lot about the ease of making room for others with the simple choice of widening the circle. No matter who showed up there would always be room for them...and everyone stood connected...eye to eye as equals. It always seemed to me that this was the best gift we could offer: an invitation to be included and to believe that whatever music and rhythm we found ourselves dancing to, it was perfect—and sacred. Those scarves not only added expressiveness to the music, but most importantly distracted me from feeling awkward and seeing only gray sticks, to for the first time in my life seeing the color and beauty of my movements. Our group met for six years and each year our group and the music would be there to make room for me on the dance floor. Although our group has moved on, I am finding more and more courage to dance my dance in this life whether life is flowing, chaotic or in a state of stillness. Just dance. There's plenty of room for everybody.

(Copyright, 2010, All Rights Reserved).
______________________________

Creation's Dance, Watercolor, c Glenda Dietrich http://www.glendadietrich.com/. (Used with permission from artist).

Everyday Celebrations

It is almost 2 o'clock in the morning.  "Tomorrow" is already here, yet I am still in yesterday thinking about the passing of another birthday. I notice that every year on February 11th I really celebrate. There is a conscious decision to just have fun and fill the day with all my favorite things. If I want cake, cake it is. If I want candles, yipee! Even flowers if I want. Pretty much anything goes as long as it's fun and I feel nurtured by it. If its not fun or just plain boring?  Skip it.  Not today....birthdays are sacred.  They represent the time when someone's life showed up in the world, and life should be celebrated.  I realize every year on this day with as much awareness as during the holidays, that celebrations about life and relationships are meant to happen all year long, yet quickly  I forget. Why do we so often wait for just certain days to roll around to celebrate the good in life?  Why am I so willing to give myself permission to genuinely celebrate my life on February 11th, yet often discounting my life's journey whenever I become frustrated, sad or insecure?
     One of my favorite quotes is "God danced on the day you were born." I really believe that. God envisioned everything about me, created me and "saw that it was good."  He didn't however, dance when I was born and then stop celebrating me whenever I stumbled or fell flat on my face. I  also remembered my Mom a lot today.  I was blessed that she was always celebrating who I was or will be.  From infancy onward, when doctors and others said my disability would leave me forever dependent on others and unable to have the experiences in life that most parents want for their children, she never believed them and saw so much more.  Every re-telling of my accomplishments from walking, getting an education, my home and my drivers liscense for example was followed by, "They always said she wouldn't______,but she did it!!" The ups and downs, slips and falls were just part of the journey.  It never stopped her from celebrating my life and certainly didn't cause her to love me any less.  Yet more times than not, that's what happens amoungst all of us.  Our acceptance of ourselves and each other becomes limited to the times when it is easy, when in reality we need to feel celebrated on a daily basis.  So this year on my birthday, I suppose the gift life gave me were reminders to love and celebrate who we are becoming with all its imperfections with as much joy as we feel when things are, pardon the pun, a piece of cake. God danced on the day we were born and everyday thereafter.  Why shouldn't we?

My Offering

Each day is full of new beginnings and with each one I bring You my endless gratitude for seeing only my Beauty. In times when my mind deludes me with how far I have to go, You are seeing all and only Whom I have always been. I am remembering Us more clearly at every moment. I am in awe that You have placed the Desires of Your Heart inside my own and entrusted them to me for manifestation upon this planet. I am honored and fully committed to making Our Dreams come true. I choose along with You to witness those who do not feel seen. I choose along with You to speak my Truth and to give voice to those who feel silenced by fear or ignorance. I choose along with You to use my words to teach, heal and empower others to believe in their Divine potential. I also pray that any tearing down I attempt would only come with an intention to rebuild from a place of compassion, peace making and non-judgement.

As I claim my gift of Leadership and Influence, may the ripples be far-reaching and deep. When the experiences of simply being human pull me away with distraction, fatigue and other dances with my Shadow, your unconditional love and the awareness that new beginnings will come again tomorrow comfort me.

I am all that I am,

For You

Copyright 2007

(Author's Note: This prayer was written upon completion of my Sixth Sensory Certification Training with Sonia Choquette.  It says so much about what matters most to me that I wanted to include it here in the early "getting to know me" stage of this blog.  Thanks for visiting!)

Welcome to A Different Rhythm

It was my favorite time of year: the time when the often sweltering heat and humidity of a Midwest summer finally steps aside and Fall ushers in the welcome relief of cool breezes and trades a mostly green palette for more reds and yellows in the mix.The artist in me loves color.  The more the merrier! On this particular day during my junior year in college, I was making my way to the far side of campus for an early classs.  This daily trek for most meant five minutes,but for me, typically meant fifteen or twenty due to a life-long disability of Cerebral Palsy. requiring me to use crutches to walk. I had learned early on in life that I could navigate most terrain as long as I remembered to take my time. There were some small uneven hills often slippery from the morning dew, then a wooden bridge to cross before finally reaching a well-worn path connected to the main stretch across campus.  Though usually content to take notice of the myriad of colors along the way, and always partial to the yellow maple leaves, on this particular day I was impatient with my necessary pace and wishing I could move faster.  While proceeding slowly and being careful to watch my step to avoid any surprise slips, another student approached from behind and simply said, "You are so fortunate to be able to take your time and enjoy all of the beautiful colors!  I wish I could do that."  Then off she went, up ahead of me with apparent ease.
     It has been twenty years since her comment and I never forgot it.  That moment would be used repeatedly by God throughout my life to remind me of the blessings from my perspective, not only as a woman with what society refers to as a disability but as a woman with immense faith because of it.  Yes, there are unique challenges along the way and many times when I wished the path I was on had been different; but my journey eventually became the primary catalyst for a much needed viewpoint in our fast paced world. That classmate was right. I am fortunate. My pace in life has taught me to see deeply--and I don't miss much.
     When purchasing tickets to an event, everyone prefers a good seat.  Some arrive hours early to claim a spot in the front row.  Others are content in the middle as long as they can see what's happening; free of anyone blocking their view.  Still, some hover in the background, sliding in and out quietly so as not to be noticed at all.  All of life is a stage.  Due in large part to the necessity of adapting to the world around me, most of my life has  been spent in the audience quietly watching the show.  In the process, I have made countless observations about the roles we play, as well as the costumes and masks we each present to the world in an attempt to find our place in it.
     Those observations are the inspiration for my blog, "A Different Rhythm."  It is an invitation to slow down, look deeply for our common ground and finally give each other the gift of being seen and understood, whether or not we are in perfect agreement.  The terrain along the way may not be easy but step by step the bridge is there.  Wherever one chooses to sit in the audience of life, each perspective has much to teach us if we allow it. I know this type of connection with each other is possible.  Let this be one place we can find the courage to prove it.

In a different rhythm,

Jennifer